Wayward Brothers
by HELLO I'M
Summary: A three-shot tale about three brothers and the importance of family. Seasons 4-7.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for choosing HELLO I'M express, please enjoy your stay and feel free to leave a review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, yadda yadda yadda. **

_*The Eldest*_

The whole point of being the oldest of the family, is to look after those younger than you. Dean Winchester was all too familiar with this concept. He'd done nothing short of raising his kid brother. And little Sammy Winchester was not always easy to take care of. He was always asking questions, see. Questions that Dean didn't always have the answers to or answers that he was unwilling to give. To protect Sammy. Because Sammy was his responsibility and he had to look after his baby brother. He _had_ to. Even after Sammy had learned about the terrbile things that crept through the dark, about the terrible things that weren't afraid to come after scared little children. He had to keep protecting Sammy, only in different ways. It wasn't that he thought Sam wasn't a capable hunter, because he was, in fact Sam was one of the best hunters he knew, it's just that he couldn't stand the thought of Sam getting hurt when Dean could have done something to stop it. So he often tried getting Sam to take the easier part of the job, the _safer_ part. Of course Sam, the stubborn Winchester he was, often ignored or refused Dean's suggestions. It would've been impressive if it wasn't so damn annoying and worrying. Dean would do anything for his baby brother. If he was in pain, he would glady trade places; if he was happy, he would do anything he could to keep it that way; if it ever came to it, he would sell his own soul in exchange for Sam's life.

It nearly broken him in peices when it actually _did_ come to that on that heart wrenching day in Cold Oak. Sam, his Sam, his baby brother Sammy, had died in his arms. _His arms_. He had to watch the life fade from Sam's eyes, had felt his body go cold beneath his shaking arms as death hungrily consumed him.

And he cried.

And cried, and cried. His soul shattering and breaking over and over and over every time he looked at Sam's lifeless body.

He cried until the saddness was replaced with despair and despair with desperation. And in that desperation he did the only thing he knew would save Sammy: he sold his soul to the devil.

Well not the devil exactly, but a demon none-the-less.

And when Sam asked him why, _why_ would I do that? It almost broke him again.

Because he had to. He had to save Sam, no matter the cost. Because Sam was his responsibility. Because Sam was _his _to protect.

He didn't think about what Sam would do after he was gone. Didn't wonder who would watch after him when he wasn't around. Not because the thought hadn't crossed his mind -it had- but because he _couldn't_.

He couldn't think about what Sammy would do without him, because he knew Sammy, and he knew the answer would not be pretty. He knew Sam would be desperate to get him back, knew the kid would run himself to the ground for answers, knew that Sam would do anything to bring him back. _Anything._No matter how dark a path it brought him down,if he was desperate enough. And he knew a thing or two about desperation. So he begged him, _begged_ him to stay put. To not seak out that darkness. To just leave him to rot in Hell. It was stupid, he knew, he knew Sam would never leave his big brother in Hell. He couldn't. Because Sam cared for him every bit as much as he cared for Sam.

He wouldn't change it, would still sell his soul for him, because he couldn't die before his brother. Because he was older, he had to die first. Because Sam deserved to live.

So he went to Hell without question, never expecting to see his baby brother's smiling face ever again.

Damn, was he suprised when he -literally- rose from the grave.

Suprised when he found Sam, looking, for all intents and purposes, fine. He was just as shocked to see him alive than he was being alive.

That's how they met Castiel, an angel of the Lord.

You wouldn't believe it looking at them now, but they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye when they'd first met. In fact, he thought the angels were stuck up douchebags.

And they told Sam to stop. To stop using the demon powers to stop guzzeling demon blood. All the hopes he'd had that Sam wasn't going against his dying wish and had just left well enough alone were shattered.

Instead of hope, he felt betrayl. And if you've never felt betrayl it's not something you could ever understand. When his brother chose a demon _bitch_ over him, he felt hurt beyond anything he'd ever felt before. A type of hurt that only betrayl can bring, the type where your very being shatters with the knowledge that someone you love would purposefuly hurt, no matter what intentions they had. It was the type of hurt that would never go away, and he had to live with it eating him from the inside out, crushing his soul with the painful thoughts that maybe Sam didn't care about him after all. It was ridiculous, they were brothers, they loved eachother, even if recent actions proved otherwise. But that never stopped the hurt.

So, he stepped up. Told Sam to stop. This could only go south from here. At first, Sam was a little resistent. The last drops of desperation and the need for revenge leeking through his body, he thought he was doing good, thought he was doing what needed to be done. The truth was, he was playing straight into the demons raindeer games.

Things were looking...well things were looking 'end-of-the-world-y', and Sam -confused, lost, and scared- looked to him to fix it. Sure, he was a little (a lot) pissed that Sam hadn't listened to him, still a little upset Sam betrayed him, but family's not meant to make you feel good. So, like any good brother would do, he took hold of Sams hand (figurativley, anyway, none of that chick crap here) and, just like when they were kids, he searched for a way to make things better, not without the help of their newest brother, Castiel, of course. He was hurt and angry and _tired_...but never once would he turn his back on Sam. Not when he needed him the most. He may have been cold, seemingly unforgiving, but he would always be there for Sam, and Sam had to learn on his own just how bad betrayl could screw you over. A lesson; one he hoped he would never have to feel or teach again.

He couldn't say exactly when Cas became his brother, after all they'd been through together it was no suprise he felt Cas was family. Cas was...well he was an angel. A warrior, a soldier, someone who didn't really need to be looked after. Yet, he still felt the need to do just that. Not to the same extent that he did with Sam, Cas was a celestial being afterall and could kick his ass three ways to Sunday. Even with all that, Cas would sometimes look to him for help or understanding. Like a little brother.

It was like a double-whammy when, after everything he'd gone through with Sam, he had to go through again with Cas. It was like nobody learned anything from the apocalypse. Like hey, it's fine just the world ending because of lying and backstabbing and sneaking around.

Once again, he had to see that same look of desperation on his brother's face. Begging him to stop what he's doing. That things could only go south from there. That working with demons, _demons_, more specifically _Crowley_, was a bad, bad idea. If he could, he probably would've locked Cas in the panick room and made him think about what he's doing. As it was, Cas had become hard to even talk to, no way was he going to convince him to step inside that room.

Not that he could anyway, because after he_ destroyed Sam_, they had to put his camatose baby brother in said room to keep him safe from the angel whom he'd wrongly trusted.

It was a miracle, a freakin' miracle, that Sam had managed to stumble his way to that damned warehouse where Cas was planning on doing something really stupid. And then Cas, crazy 'thinks-he's-God' Cas had the balls to _mock _his brother. The same brother everyone said would never be vertical again. Yeah, he was a little beyond pissed at that point.

Cas was gone, there was no turning back from this. He'd lied and snuck around behind his back, _broke_ the only thing keeping Sam _sane_ and _still_ didn't see this as wrong. It was Sam, Sam who was barley holding onto whatever sanity was left, that reminded him that family is _family_ and we don't give up on family. No matter how screwed up things were. Or how mad with power they'd become. Cas was a brother, he was family. So they _would_ fix this, they would save Cas if was the last thing they did.

If there was one thing he'd learned in his life was that it didn't matter what battle you were fighting (angels, demons, whatever), the best choice you could make was family. And family was worth fighting for. Dying for. Sometimes even _living_ for.

You'd think, though, that after everything, they would've learned a little something more. Like not going bat-shit crazy with power or that maybe, just maybe, hanging out with demons was a _bad_ idea. Same mistake, different person.

And for the _second_ time in his short life-span, he watched his brother, his other little brother, fight to make things better. Even if it costed him his life, and he had to say goodbye to his brother. Again.

They were one seriously messed up, wayward family. But still family.

And he was the oldest. He was there to lead them down the right path, to pick them up when they fell, to guide them to the answer, to save them when they couldn't save themselves, to fix the things that seemed un-fixable. He would never turn his back on his brothers, not when they needed him most. Not ever.

Because he was the big brother.


	2. Chapter 2

_*The Middle*_

Castiel found it strange how easily he thought of the Winchesters as his brothers. He had brothers. Raphael was his brother, but he didn't think of him the same way he thought of Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean would do for him what nobody else would. He was unsure to what exactly that was, but he was certain that whatever it was, his angelic brothers would never do the same.

When he had chosen to follow Dean instead of Heaven, he looked to Dean for help. He was unsure about how the human world worked and had had...questions. Dean had seemed unbothered by them and willing to answer and explain a few things to him.

He learned a lot about and from Dean when he was working against Heaven, Dean gave him all the reasons that what he was doing was right. Free will and family and the courage to stand up to your family. Dean taught him right and wrong. Of course Dean was still just human and there had been a time when Dean had nearly given up and given in. He was going to say 'yes' to Michael. And he felt...he felt too much. He was angry and sad at the same time, something he didn't fully understand and he couldn't ask Dean because Dean was the reason he was feeling that.

He had always thought it would be Sam that would give up first before Dean. He didn't know Sam well, afterall Sam wasn't the reason he rebeled. He liked Sam enough, he knew Sam was important to Dean, but he also knew there was something...incredibly human about Sam, that made everything Dean had said make sense. He could almost understand.

It amazed him even more when Sam put his brother under house arrest to keep him from Michael. He had never seen Sam take the authority like that, Sam would either listen to his brother or go and do his own thing, yet there he was keeping an eye on both Dean and the half-brother Adam. It was different.

When Adam disapeared, Sam turned to Dean and let him go. Even after Dean had been trying to escape them, Sam still had enough blind faith in his brother that he trusted Dean would do the right thing.

He didn't understand how Sam could still hold all that faith and trust in his brother after Dean had willingly sought out Michael. The only thing he could compare it to was his own diminishing faith he had in his Father.

He was not happy with Adam's rescue plan ideas, he did not trust Dean nearly as much as Sam did, it even seemed Dean did not trust himself as much as Sam was trusting him. Sam was sure Dean would not say 'yes' to Michael. He was so certain, it was almost believable.

It was Dean who gave him the reasons to fall, but really it was Sam who personified them.

After Michael had gotten his vessel, not his chosen vessel, another example of the Winchesters ignoring fate, it was Sam that taught him self-sacrifice.

Sam had thought to say 'yes' to the Devil and drop them both into the Cage.

It was a 'last-ditch' effort, one last hope at beating the Devil and avoiding the foretold apocalypse.

It was insane and stupid, but it was all they had.

All of their efforts were for nothing, Luficer had his vessel and the battle would commence. The end was inevitable.

Dean was not happy about this, he reeked of despair. Dean was sure there was some way Sam could regain control, but he was not so sure. He told Dean the only thing he would see was Michael killing his brother, and he felt something. He felt sad...and guilty. This all could have been avoided if he had never let Sam out of the panick room. It was his fault Dean was about to watch his brothers murder. Sam did not deserve his fate, Sam was...kind. He was faithful without reason, he trusted his brother when he shouldn't have been trusted. It made him feel guilty knowing he had a part of Sam's unfair fate.

He went with Dean and Bobby and threw Holy Oil at Michael to give Dean his last moments with his brother. He was certain there would be no surviving this.

He was almost right, Lucifer had snapped his fingers and he was dead.

Briefly, anyway.

His Father had given him another chance, a chance to change things. The fist thing he saw when woke, was Dean bloody and beaten and too far gone in his own despair.

Sam was in the Cage. The apocalypse had been avoided.

_But at what cost?_ He asked himself, before he pushed that thought aside. Heaven would be in chaos.

He gave Dean his goodbye and left him alone with his misery, alone in his car.

The car that Sam should be in with him. The same Sam that stopped two angels from their battle. More than a meere human should be capable of. _At what cost?_ He found himself asking again and again and again.

He didn't understand it, he was an angel again he shouldn't be thinking like that.

But it kept coming back replaying itself over and over before he finally understood.

The cost had been his family. His family who took him in when he was cast out. His family who taught him to be human and the importance of family each in there own way. And suddenly he couldn't stand the thought of Sam, his brother Sam, of being in Hell with Lucifer. The worst possible fate.

It took a lot of time and effort he barley possesed to raise him from perdition, but Sam was not right. He came back different. When he brought Sam to his brother, he expected...something else. He wasn't sure what exactly. A reunion perhaps. What he did not expect was Sam to turn away from Dean and head down the darkend street.

It was disconcerting, but Sam was out. And he would deal with it later. If there was time.

He didn't know the reason Sam was wrong was that he was soulless. He may have made things worse than they were before.

Dean was adamant about bringing Sam's soul back. He was sure there was a way.

You'd think by now he would have stopped doubting anything the Winchesters could do.

Despite his warnings to not re-ensoul Sam, Dean refused to listen to reason, refused to believe that Sam's memories could _kill_ him. But they didn't.

The boys were back together and closing in on just what he'd been up to in the year they'd all been seperated. He couldn't have that, they wouldn't understand. They couldn't understand. And they would try to stop him, but this needed to be done.

When he tried explaining to Dean, to try an get him to understand, he knew it was pointless. And Dean, predictably, tried to stop him. To _fix_ him when he wasn't broken. Dean just couldn't understand. this was _war_ and decisions had to be made.

He knew they would come after him, to stop him from getting the souls. He knew the only way Dean would stop was if Sam was in danger.

It was wrong and cruel, but he had to get the souls and he _would_ fix Sam when this was over.

But that didn't stop the pang of guilt he felt as he saw Sam's eyes widen in horror.

Sam didn't deserve this, but it had to be done.

And he would fix Sam when it was over.

It didn't stop Dean for long. Long enough for Dean to put Sam somewhere safe, probably the panick room at Bobby's.

Dean and Bobby arrived at the warehouse along with Crowley and Raphael. Things could have gone better, but he got his souls and Raphael was dead.

He wasn't the same after he had all those souls crawling beneath his skin. He felt...darker. More powerful.

He remembered Sam, who shouldn't have even been awake, much less stumbling around, stabbing him in the back. Remembered him saying he could throw Sam back in the Pit and Sam, well Sam looked aweful. He knew he should have felt something, seeing his family so broken. But he felt nothing, nothing but power. And it felt _good_. Wrong but good.

Then he heard Sam, Sam was _praying_. Praying to him, after everything he'd done. Telling him they could still fix this.

He knew Sam was right. Dean was right. Things have gotten way out hand.

He needed help. Now.

He went to Dean and they brought him back to the warehouse.

He was tired and in pain. So much pain.

He heard Dean tell Sam to go get the blood in the back, remembers Sam not coming back. He couldn't save Sam. He was sorry. So, so sorry. This was his fault, all his fault. Dean, the only person who ever treated him like family, was going to lose his brother to Hell again. And it was by his doing.

_I'm sorry, Dean_.

He finally understood what true family was. It was being with people who would not let you down, who would not let you die alone, who would save you no matter what.

That was family, and only Sam and Dean could have ever have taught him that.

_Thank you, Sam_.


	3. Chapter 3

_*The Youngest*_

Sam Winchester hadn't really had any friends growing up, always moving around too much. At first he'd tried to socialize with the other kids, it was in a kids nature to be social. But after the constant move he realized that it wouldn't matter if he made friends or not, he wasn't going to be staying there anyways.

The only friend he could ever really say he'd ever had was his big brother. Of course Dean was more than just a friend, he'd raised him. Taught him to tie his shoes and read and write. Always splitting his time to be what he needed Dean to be. Sometimes he was a parent, sometimes he was a brother, or a friend. Whatever he needed, Dean would be.

There were some things though, that he wished Dean would never give him. Like his life in exchange for his own.

He couldn't believe his brother would do something so reckless. Actually, yeah he could. But still, how was he supposed to keep living knowing full well Dean was in Hell because of him? He had enough blood on his hands, enough guilt over deaths he couldn't prevent, he didn't need his _brother's_. For God's sake, was Dean trying to kill him? No of course not, he was trying to keep him alive, that was kinda the whole point.

Sam spent one year, one long fear-filled year desperatley searching for a way, any way, to keep Dean out of Hell.

And he couldn't.

What good was he when he couldn't prtoect his brother the one time he really needed it?! How much more _useless_ could he get?

The year before Dean left him was nothing compare to the four months that followed after he'd gone. Nothing could compare to those four God forsaken months of his own personal brand of Hell.

When Dean left him, he searched and searched and searched for anything that could get him out of Hell. There came a point in time where it didn't matter what way it was, just as long as he got Dean _out_. He didn't care about anything else, just Dean. Always Dean. And yeah, okay, so maybe he went a little crazy from grief, but he didn't care. Didn't care about anything that didn't have to do with Dean and Hell and getting him out of there. Nothing was more important than Dean.

He knew he would do anything and apparently so did the demons. Ruby took advantage of his clearly questionable mental stability and should he have really expected anything less out of a demon? But, of course, at the time he didn't care. If there was even a _chance_ of bringing Dean back he would take it. No matter what cost.

Stupid.

He ended up damning his soul, becoming an addict, and starting the apocalypse. Oh and don't forget completley destroying any trust his brother had for him.

But what suprised him most, was that Dean, after everything he'd done to him, still loved him. He'd been nothing but a srew-up sense Dean died and he still loved him.

What he didn't expect was to be battleing for Dean's attention with an _angel_. Yeah, he was a little jealous. At first anyway. Eventually he came to an understanding that Castiel was family now too. And he could except that. Castiel had gone to great lengths to help his brother stop him from breaking the last seal. He rebeled against Heaven and helped Dean in ways that he couldn't. There was no way he could ever repay that.

Somewhere along the line, he actually started to like Castiel, though he wasn't sure if Castiel ever felt the same or just tolerated him for Dean. It was hard to tell with Cas.

Then when he found out it was Cas who raised him from Hell, from the Cage and _away_ from Lucifer, he thought maybe Cas did like him. You don't raise people you don't like from Hell. Then he remembered he came back without a soul, and maybe Cas did that on puropse.

Cas denied that and seemed so sincere and he figured it could have just been an accident.

Durings Cas's little intervention where Dean had been desperatley telling Cas things were not going to end well, he just wanted to tell Cas to listen to Dean, Dean was his big brother and always knew what he was talking about. He didn't want Cas to go down the same dark, twisted path he had been down. If he'd listened to Dean though, it would have never happend. So he kept thinking _please, Cas, listen to him_.

But Cas didn't.

Instead, the angel stood behind him, fingers touching his head, and shattered his solid hold on reality.

He had to fight his way out of his own head, because family came first and he couldn't leave Dean. He couldn't leave Dean to fight alone or to die alone. He couldn't even let him face Cas alone, Cas who used to be like family. Who came to them when he had nowhere else to go.

He _had_ to get to Dean. Couldn't leave Dean. Couldn't.

It wasn't easy getting to that warehouse, it was exhausting and painful. But he made, and he was with Dean.

When he saw Cas, though, he didn't _see_ him. He saw a mad angel threatening his brother. So, he took his shot, stabbed Castiel in the back. At the time, he didn't have the energy or sanity for guilt. Just kill anything that threatend Dean.

But Cas didn't die. He wasn't the same, he was powerful and way too high off of all that power.

Cas looked at him in a way that wasn't even Cas and threatend to throw him back in the Pit. He wasn't sure if Cas had the power to throw him back in with Lucifer or not, but with the constant onslaught of memories scrambeling his brain, the idea terrified him.

It was when he didn't, though, that he knew Cas was in there somwhere. He had to be.

But Dean...well Dean was all for killing Cas. He didn't think Dean meant it though. Cas was-was _family_. And he told that to Dean, reminded Dean that it doesn't matter how far off the reservation you've gone, if you have family to bring you back, then you can be saved. Dean had to understand that family couldn't give up on eachother, because we're all we have.

He wasn't sure if Dean still believed that, but he knew Dean wasn't the only one that needed to understand. Cas needed to know that we would be there for him. That they were his brothers. They were family. A messed up and destructive family, but family. And we would always be there for him, and that as long as they had family, they would be okay.


End file.
